The Teeth of the Tiger - Tom Clancy [115]
"Yeah, I know. Okay, Pete, any advice on Michelle?" Brian asked. "You know, if we're out on a mission, we usually get a mission brief."
"That's a fair question, Captain. I'd suggest you look for her at Victoria's Secret, just across from The Gap. If you get close enough without being spotted, you win. If she says your name when you're more than ten feet away, you lose."
"This isn't strictly fair," Dominic pointed out. "She knows what we look like-especially height and weight. A real bad guy wouldn't have that information in his pocket. You can fake being taller, but not being shorter."
"And my ankles can't take high heels, y'know?" Brian added.
"You don't have the legs for it anyway, Aldo," Alexander needled. "Who ever said this job was easy?"
Except we still don't know what the fucking job is, Brian didn't respond. "Fair enough, we improvise, adapt, and overcome."
"Who are you now, Dirty Harry?" Dominic asked, finishing off his McMuffin.
"In the Corps, he's our favorite civilian, bro. Probably would have made a pretty good gunny."
"Especially with his.44 Smith."
"Kinda noisy for a handgun. Kinda tough on the hand, too. Except maybe the Auto-Mag. Ever shot one of those?"
"No, but I handled the one in the gun locker at Quantico. Damned thing ought to come with a trailer to haul it around with, but I bet it makes nice holes."
"Yeah, but if you want to conceal it, you better be Hulk Hogan."
"I hear that, Aldo." As a practical matter, the fanny packs they used didn't so much conceal a pistol as make it more convenient to carry. Any cop knew what it was on first sight, though few civilians recognized it. Both brothers carried a loaded pistol and a spare magazine in their packs, when they wore them. Pete wanted them to do so today just to make it harder to track Michelle Peters without being spotted. Well, you expected such things of training officers, didn't you?
The same day began five miles away at Holiday Inn Express, and on this day, unlike the others, they all unrolled their prayer rugs and, as one man, said their morning Salat for what they all expected to be the last time. It took but a few minutes and then they all washed, to purify themselves for their task. Zuhayr even took the time to shave around his new beard, neatly trimming the part he wanted to wear into eternity, until, when satisfied, he dressed.
It wasn't until they were completely ready that they realized it was hours short of the proper time. Abdullah walked up the hill to Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast and coffee, this time even returning with a newspaper, which circulated its way around both rooms while the men drank their coffee and smoked their cigarettes.
Fanatics they might seem to their enemies, but they remained human, and the tension of the moment was unpleasant, and getting only worse by the minute. The coffee only pumped more caffeine into their systems, making hands shake and eyes narrow on the TV news. They checked their watches every few seconds, willing unsuccessfully for the hands to turn faster around the dials, then drank more of the coffee.
"Now we're getting excited, too?" Jack asked Tony at The Campus. He gestured at his workstation. "What's here that I don't see, buddy?"
Wills rocked back in his chair. "It's a combination of things. Maybe it's real. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe it's just a construct in the minds of professional analysts. You know how you tell what it really is?"
"Wait a week, look back, and see if anything actually happened?"
That was enough to make Tony Wills laugh. "Junior, you are learning the spook business. Jesus, I've seen more predictions go wrong in the intelligence business than they have on Preakness day at Pimlico. You see, unless you do know, you just don't know, but people in the business don't like to think that way."
"I remember when I was a kid, Dad used to get in shitty moods sometimes-"
"He was in CIA during the Cold War. The big shots were always asking for predictions that nobody